‘It’s a really generous offer, James, and I appreciate it.’ Devon stopped and fiddled with the knife in front of him. Carluccio’s resonated with the noise and vigour of a busy lunchtime crowd. Too reminiscent of life with Marina. Loud, busy with people jockeying for attention. Having his own practice again – what he wouldn’t give for that, but there was no way he could accept the offer. Not while he still had debt up to his eyeballs.
‘I can tell by that stubborn set on your chiselled manly chin, that you’re not even going to consider it.’ James grimaced. ‘Why the hell not? We’re mates. Let me help.’
Devon sighed, sourness churning in his stomach. He could stall. Give James a million excuses and he knew that he’d see through every one of them. The knife slipped through his fingers, falling onto the floor with a metallic clang. Like a bell ringing time.
He looked up. Even though James was his oldest friend, he found it hard to tell him the truth. This was his mess and he was going to work it out. He didn’t want anyone’s help. No one needed to jump to his rescue.
‘I’m not taking your money. I’m OK.’
‘Man.’ James shook his head in frustrated disgust. ‘Stop being so damned proud.’
It wasn’t a question of pride. Devon wanted his self-respect back.
‘James. I’m going to fix this and in a while,’ a hell of a long while, ‘I can think about setting up my own practice again.’
‘But why don’t you just take over your dad’s place?’
‘Because the village wants Dad back. And Dad needs to get back to work. There’s nothing wrong with him now. I know what he’s up to. He’s helping me out and I don’t want him to. I can stand on my own two feet.’
‘And what about Marina. It’s definitely over? I never thought you two guys . . . ’ James’s voice trailed off.
Devon shrugged. ‘These things happen.’ There was no way he was going to admit to James that he’d caught Marina in bed with another man. That had been the final car crash act on their relationship but like a juggernaut without brakes it had been slowly careering to an end and he’d done nothing to stop it.
Devon rocked his head back, trying to ease the stiffness in his shoulders.
‘Can’t you expand your dad’s practice, make it more profitable? Come on, you said it was in desperate need of modernisation. I thought you said that you should be selling nutritional pet foods. There’s always a good margin in those.’
‘I’m not staying there.’ Devon grimaced. ‘I’m Mr Unpopular. I’ve got to overturn a generation’s way of doing things. People don’t like change.’ His attempts to educate pet owners, mainly around diet, were dismissed with, ‘Old Mr Ashcroft never said that’. The minute he tried to insist a bill was paid on time, they went running to Dad, complaining about him being hard or difficult. In an attempt to balance his life and allow him to do more locum work on call, he’d had to be stricter about opening hours but people still expected him to run an open-all-hours regimen.
‘Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that. They’ll come round. It just takes time.’
‘I’ve got plenty of that, I’m just not sure I’ve got the energy to stick at it.’
‘And the bank won’t relent.’
‘No.’ Devon straightened. ‘And listen to me. This is boring. How’s married life?’
James’s face lit up. With a slight touch of envy, Devon leaned back in his chair as James chatted happily about his new bride, their new home and their plans for the future.
By the time the waitress delivered their starters, he felt fidgety and cross about nothing in particular. It would have been nice for Ella to at least have contacted him to let him know she’d decided not to join them for lunch. He guessed her mind was elsewhere.
‘If looks could kill, you’d be up on a serial murder charge,’ observed James, one eyebrow lifting in amusement. ‘Going to tell me about it?’
‘Nothing to tell. Just pissed off that Ella hasn’t got the manners to let me know where she is.’ He took a mouthful of the bruschetta he’d ordered.
‘Maybe she and the boyfriend are making up.’ James winked.
Devon’s appetite vanished as a dull pain clamped around his heart.
Should he phone her? Better not, she might be deep in discussion with Patrick. They might even be mid make-up sex. His heart flipped over. God forbid, he really hoped not.
Devon shot James a dirty glare as he crunched through ciabatta and piquant tomatoes.
‘So who is this Ella chick? I’ve not heard you mention her before.’
‘No one.’
‘No one?’ James’s brow furrowed into disbelieving lines. ‘And I’m Brad Pitt. Come on. I’m beginning to think that phone is surgically attached.’
‘She’s just a friend.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve heard about those types of friends.’
‘She’s living in the village. It’s a small place, you run into people a lot. She’s a friend of Jack’s girlfriend, Bets. We walk the dogs sometimes.’
‘So what’s she like?’
Devon shrugged. ‘Not my type, really. Touchy. Reserved. Artist. Bit buttoned up.’ Except when she was dancing around Bets’ flat in white overalls or cheating at Trivial Pursuit. ‘Good at darts.’ He smiled. ‘She draws. Cuthbert Mouse. Clever, funny pictures. Quirky sense of humour.’
‘I meant what does she look like? Is she a babe like Marina?’
‘No! Not at all.’ Marina dressed in smart shift dresses and heels and always looked immaculate with lots of make-up. Ella didn’t seem to do make-up or if she did, he’d never noticed it. ‘Blonde hair.’ Soft and sweet-scented. ‘Slimmish.’ Soft curves when he’d held her. ‘Gentle.’ He thought of her talking to George while they waited for the ambulance as he took another mouthful of his starter. ‘Although she can be a bit spiky.’
‘Sounds as if you like her.’ James grinned, lifting his lager glass in ironic toast. ‘She also sounds a hell of a lot nicer than Marina.’
Devon stared at his friend.
‘Come on, Devon. I admire the fact you don’t badmouth her but seriously . . . she was one high-maintenance babe. And my wife . . . can’t stand her. Sorry, mate.’ James suddenly looked horrified. ‘Oh shit, don’t tell Clara I said a word. She said I wasn’t to tell you. In case you ever get back together.’
‘You’re safe. I doubt we’ll be getting back together. I was tempted at first but . . . ’
‘You fancy this new chick.’
‘James!’
‘I can see the signs.’
‘She’s just a friend.’ Unfortunately, the more he said it, the more he questioned it.
Right on cue, his phone vibrated on the table. Finally, Ella calling. He snatched his mobile up to hear her unleash a torrent of agitated words. Listening and nodding, ignoring the avid curiosity on James’s face, it took almost a minute before he could get a word in edgeways.
‘I’ll be right there.’